


This One's For You

by Coffeesforcatchers



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Driving, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Fluff, Gay as hell, I don't know which one of them i project on more, Insomnia, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Music, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Gestures, Speeding Bullet (Team Fortress 2), Title from an Elton John Song, it's a songfic?, mentioned lesbian ms pauling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:14:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22646236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coffeesforcatchers/pseuds/Coffeesforcatchers
Summary: It was late. The camper van drove down the dusty desert road as it headed back to RED base. Normally, Sniper was on his own during these late night drives, when his insomnia and anxiety got the best of him. But this time, there was someone sitting next to him.
Relationships: Scout/Sniper (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 102





	1. It's a Little Bit Funny

**Author's Note:**

> my best friend turned to me and went "'your song' is such a speeding bullet song" and i went "you have such a galaxy brain for someone who's barely in this fandom"

It was late. 

The camper van drove down the dusty desert road as it headed back to RED base. In the cab, Sniper yawned quietly. His shooting glasses were tucked into the collar of his shirt, bleary eyes trying to focus on the road ahead of him. Normally, Sniper was on his own during these late night drives, when his insomnia and anxiety got the best of him. But this time, there was someone sitting next to him. 

Scout was passed out in the passenger seat, leaning up against the window. He snored softly, but it was quieter than he would ever be while awake. Sniper wasn’t sure why Scout had wanted to spend the night with him, wanted to sleep on the pullout bed while Sniper laid awake on his bunk, but there they were. It was late, almost early, and Sniper wanted to get back before they had to fight in the morning.

Sniper yawned again, reaching for the hand crank to open the window a smidge, hoping that the cold desert air would keep him alert. The wind whistled sharply through the cab of the van, and Scout stirred, grumbling unintelligibly under his breath. Sniper frantically closed the window and instead went to turn on the radio. 

The volume was low, and surprisingly, Sniper got a clear signal this far out in the desert. He flipped through the local stations, trying to find something that wasn’t just late night talk shows. A soft piano melody caught his attention, and he stopped fidgeting with the radio. 

“It’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside. I’m not one of those who can easily hide.”

Sniper blinked. He straightened in his seat, trying to split his attention between the road and the song. 

“I don't have much money, but boy if I did, I'd buy a big house where we both could live.”

As much as Sniper loved his van, he really did need to find somewhere to live once this job fell through. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Scout. Would Scout come with him? Sniper startled as he realized what he was thinking. 

The song carried on: “If I was a sculptor, but then again no, or a man who makes potions in a traveling show. Oh I know it's not much, but it's the best I can do. My gift is my song, and this one's for you.”

He risked a longer glance at Scout, still out cold. 

He was more relaxed than Sniper had ever seen him. The freckles that dusted his cheeks made him look innocent, like a young man ready to see the world, not a contracted killer who could blast you to pieces with a shotgun and a baseball bat. It was hard to believe that Scout was only a few years younger than Sniper himself when he looked fresh out of high school. 

He looked like he didn’t belong in a war zone. 

“And you can tell everybody this is your song. It may be quite simple but now that it's done, I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words how wonderful life is while you're in the world.”

Sniper was wide awake by now, listening intently to the lyrics and the soft snores coming from the young man next to him. 

“I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss. Well a few of the verses, well they've got me quite cross. But the sun's been quite kind while I wrote this song. It's for people like you that keep it turned on.”

God, Scout was like the sun, wasn’t he, Sniper thought. Always so chipper. Bright, and energetic, and holy bloody fuck pay attention to the road. Not that there was anything out here larger than jackrabbits or coyotes, but the principle still remained. 

“So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do. You see, I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue. Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean. yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen.”

Sniper, despite having chastised himself over keeping his eyes on the road just a few seconds before, took another look at Scout. Weren’t his eyes green or blue? Maybe they were grey? Sniper would have to check when the younger man woke up, but the coincidence was good enough. 

“And you can tell everybody this is your song. It may be quite simple but now that it's done, I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words how wonderful life is while you're in the world. I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words how wonderful life is while you're in the world.”

The song wound down, and Sniper felt his face burn. The disk jockey came on the air, far too chipper for three in the morning. “That was Your Song, off of Elton John’s self-titled album-”

“Yo, where are we?” A sleep-stained voice sputtered from the passenger seat. Sniper startled and shut the radio off, scrubbing at his eyes with the heel of one hand. 

“We’re almost back to the base, Scout. Go back to sleep, I’ll wake you when we get there.”

Ah, piss, Sniper thought. I think I’m in love with him. 


	2. I Hope You Don't Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh this chapter is like 600 words longer than the first one like damn i got a little carried away lmao

Scout lay back on his bed, idly bouncing a baseball off the wall and catching it. There was a ceasefire, and several of the mercs had gone out to Teufort to run errands. Normally, he would tag along, but Scout just felt unusually drained and wanted to stay in his room on base. 

But for some reason, Sniper had decided to tag along, trailing after Engie’s pickup in his van. Sniper had told Scout once that he usually went in on his own, filling up on gas and water and nonperishables. 

Scout startled to his feet at the sound of someone knocking at his door. He didn’t normally get visitors, preferring to be social in the rec room or the kitchen if he wasn’t running his mouth on the battlefield. 

“Just a sec!” Scout called, taking off his baseball cap and running a hand through his hair. He had an idea who it was, but he wasn’t sure. He leapt off his bed and fumbled for the door handle. 

On the other side of his bedroom door was Sniper, one hand rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, the other holding onto a thin, square package wrapped neatly in brown paper and twine. His face was nearly as red as his shirt, even behind his tinted glasses. 

“Oh, hey, Snipes!” Scout greeted. “What’s up?”

“So, uh, I went into town with the others, and I was pokin’ around in the record store and saw something in there that I’d thought ya might like,” Sniper said, offering the package to the younger man. 

Scout grinned, “Thanks for thinkin’ of me, man.”

“I, uh, really hope you like them,” Sniper said, face going redder as Scout picked at the twine and undid the wrapping paper. 

“Aw, sweet! I’ve been meaning to go out and get this!” Scout cried, holding up a new Tom Jones album and admiring it. “Wait, what’s this other one?”

Scout set down the Tom Jones record, curiously examining the single that Sniper had tucked in the package behind it. Sniper cleared his throat cautiously. 

“Well, uh,” Sniper paused to take a breath, “The last time you got real homesick and stayed the night with me, this song came on the radio and it reminded me of you, mate.”

Scout shrugged. “I mean, thanks. I don’t really listen to Elton John, he’s not really my type, but thanks for thinkin’ of me.”

Sniper’s face burned, and his hand rubbed harder at the back of his neck. “Could ya listen to it once, I guess?” Sniper asked, a hint of panic seeping into his voice. When Scout nodded, his shoulders seemed to untense. “Imma head back to the van, got groceries to take care of. I’ll see ya around?”

Scout grinned at him, and the older man seemed to relax even more, if only by a little bit. ”See you around, Snipes.”

The door shut silently behind him, and Scout set the record down on his bed. He took one of his many Tom Jones records off of his record player and slipped the Elton John single out of its sleeve and onto the turntable. 

Scout set the needle against the groove and the song began to play. 

He crossed his arms, sitting on his bed, back pressed up against the headboard. Sniper thought that this song reminded him of him? Then he really needed to pay attention. 

Scout had started sleeping over with him only a few months ago, when his homesickness reared its head and his pride would hardly let him admit it. Sniper was kind about it, didn’t make fun of him for being a momma’s boy. Sniper let him sleep propped up against the kitchenette booth, or in the front seat when his own insomnia picked at him. 

Sniper’s kindness (and his rugged good looks, but Scout wasn’t about to admit that) had caught his attention after Miss Pauling turned him down for a fried chicken date. 

Scout had been in Sniper’s van more than any of their other coworkers. Except maybe Spy. Nobody knew where that shapeshifting rat was at any given moment.

With that thought, Scout remembered that he knew that Sniper did not own a record player. It took up too much space in the van. Sniper had no reason to be looking around the record shop in town, except to buy Scout these records. 

“My gift is my song and this one’s for you,” the singer crooned, “And you can tell everybody this is your song. It may be quite simple but now that it's done, I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words how wonderful life is while you're in the world.”

Scout blinked. This reminded Sniper of him?

“Holy crap,” Scout said out loud. This song reminded Sniper of him. “Oh, my holy freakin’ stupid crap!”

Scout leapt off of his bed, wearing a hole in his carpet as he kept listening. Sniper liked him. Sniper liked him enough to give him a freakin’ love song and an album by his favorite musician in the world as a gift. The guy he liked actually liked him back. Wait, did Sniper really forget what color his eyes were?

The song wound down, and Scout stopped his pacing. Shit, he thought, I’m gonna have to tell him. Scout bent down and grabbed his sneakers, shoving them on his feet without untying them. 

He slammed his bedroom door behind him, dashing through the near-empty halls of the base. Scout made it to the back door of the kitchen before he ran into anyone, nearly running Engie over. 

“Woah, son. Watch where you’re goin’,” Engie said, goggles pushed back from his eyes. 

“Sorry, Engie,” Scout said, bouncing from one foot to the other. “Is Sniper still here?”

Engie squinted. “Yeah, he is. Why’re you askin’, son?”

“I, uh, I needed to tell him something,” Scout flushed. 

The older man smiled and stepped out of the way. “His van’s right out back.”

“Thanks, Engie!” Scout called, already sprinting out the door. He raced through the desert, kicking up clouds of dust behind him. Sniper’s van was already in sight, but Scout showed no signs of slowing down. 

He skidded to a halt just outside the door to the camper van, and Scout took a deep breath. The blinds were closed, but Scout could see that the lights inside were on. He took another breath and raised his fist. 

“Snipes! Hey, Snipes! I know you’re in there!” Scout called, pounding on the metal door. 

The door creaked open, and there he was. 

They stared at each other for a second before Scout reached up and took Sniper’s face in his hands. He crashed his mouth into Sniper’s, wincing at the click of teeth. His stubble felt like sandpaper under Scout’s unwrapped palms. 

Scout realized with a panic that Sniper wasn’t kissing back. Had he gotten this all wrong? Shit, he had probably fucked this all up. 

After a few moments, which passed like a lifetime, Sniper relaxed under his touch, wrapped his arms around the small of his back, pulled the younger man closer, and kissed Scout in return. His lips were chapped, and his breath smelled like stale coffee, but Scout couldn’t complain. He knew that his breath probably smelled like Bonk, and that taste wasn’t exactly pleasant either. 

They kissed for several more moments, until Scout, red in the face, had to pull back to catch his breath. Sniper tried to follow after him, but then realized how out of breath he was himself. Sniper smiled at him, something softer than Scout had ever seen. “I guess you figured out how I feel, mate.”

Scout laughed. “Yeah, took me a minute.”

“Do you want to come inside?” Sniper asked, just as flushed as Scout was. 

Scout nodded frantically, eyes darting from Sniper’s grey eyes to his lips. Sniper chuckled at him, moving out of the doorway to let him in, and shutting the door behind him. 

“I, uh, take it that you feel the same,” Sniper said, glancing at his feet. He leaned up against the kitchenette counter, Scout doing the same opposite him.

“Yeah,” Scout admitted, scuffing his sneaker against the floor. “You’ve just always been so nice to me. Not to mention that I think you’re kinda hot.”

Sniper’s face burned. “You ain’t bad-lookin’ yourself, mate.”

Scout grinned. “Wait, Snipes?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you really not know what color my eyes are?”

“You were asleep when I heard that song! I couldn’t remember!”

Scout smirked, taking a step forward and hitting Sniper’s arm playfully. “My eyes are blue, you dumbass.”

“I know that now,” Sniper said, leaning closer to the younger man. “You still have the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

“Hey, Snipes?” Scout asked, voice quieter than Sniper had ever heard it.

“Yeah, mate?”

“Could ya please kiss me again?” Scout felt his face burning, and he could barely look Sniper in the eyes. 

The other man cupped his face in his palms, hands so much bigger and rougher than Scout’s own. “Sure thing, Roo. Anything for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was halfway through writing this chapter when I remembered that I've never written a good kissing scene in my life, and that I've never been kissed myself, so I just kinda, sighed and googled "how to write a kissing scene" for the twentieth time this year
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed!


End file.
